


The Nominal Form of Familiarity

by rev02a



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bring Back Black | Sirius Black Returns From Beyond the Veil, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25247272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rev02a/pseuds/rev02a
Summary: “‘It’s just the darnest thing; as far as we can tell, the Veil is bringing back special possessions… about three a person. It’s sort of a Christmas miracle of sorts. […] to be honest, we haven’t a damn clue.’ The Ministry is also quick to point out that this magic does not appear to be related, in any way, shape, or form, to You-Know-Who.”Reposted from 2008 or 2009? on my LJ.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	The Nominal Form of Familiarity

**Author's Note:**

> This is reposted from my LiveJournal.

“There’s a hen on our front step,” Tonks announces, her voice lilting in curiosity.

Tonks is standing in the doorway, staring out onto the landing of their home. Remus steps around her and looks onto the stoop. Sure enough, there is a plump, red hen squawking indignantly. Its legs are bound together in what looks to be baling twine. Remus wonders if his wife stomped on the thing before she saw it.

“Strange,” Remus mummers, leaning down and collecting the bird into his arms.

“You’re not bringing that THING in the house!” Tonks calls, mildly enraged as Remus does just that.

“The baby! What about him! Those things have mites!” she continues.

“So do I,” Remus replies, nonplussed. He takes the bird with him into the kitchen.

Teddy toddles in, giggling at his mother’s angry-red hair. He watches with large eyes as his father slices the twine free of the hen’s legs with a simply flick of his wand.

“What sound does a chicken make, son?” Remus asks, while setting the bird on the ground with a saucer full of water and some cornmeal.

As Teddy cock-a-doodle-do’s! and clucks, the hen eyes the cornmeal with distaste.

“Well, I apologize,” Remus snaps at the hen in a businesslike tone. “It's not often that I have kidnapped chickens left on my step. Had I known you were coming, I would have prepared better,” he continues, leaving no room for argument or whining.

The hen eyes Remus indignantly, pecking distastefully at the cornmeal so that the saucer bangs on the ceramic tile.

Teddy laughs and claps his hands when the hen ruffles and cackles at him. Tonks frowns from the doorway.

“It’s not a pet,” she scolds, glaring at Remus and moving to scoop up Teddy. “It can’t stay in the house.”

“Cock-a-doodle-do!” Teddy exclaims, pointing at the chicken.

“Yes,” Tonks assures him.

Teddy’s hair changes to the rusty brown of the hen’s feathers. He crows again. Tonks sighs.

“What are you doing with it?” she asks Remus, pointedly glaring at the fowl in her kitchen.

Remus squats down near the bird and watches her peck at a dried out raisin under the fold of the cabinet.

“I think I’ll build her a pen,” he replies and moves swiftly toward the junk pile in the garage.

“Remus!” his wife shrieks. “The baby!”

“Will be just fine. He survived my genetic failures, I think he will survive a chicken,” Remus asserts in his put-that-down-this-instant-now-turn-around-and-face-forward-this-lesson-might-save-your-life-and-is-most-definitely-on-the-exam voice.

Tonks sighs again and carries her son—who now has altered his nose into a beak—away from the kitchen and his eccentric father.

Remus and the hen putt around the back garden, pounding stakes and hanging a wire fence (or scratching at the dust and eating earthworms). While he works, Remus speaks; gentle and soothing like the incessant babble of a brook.

“You had a home, I assume? You’re simply too well fed to be a stray. Is that the correct term for a loose chicken? Stray? Hmm,” Remus wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, “You’ll need a name, I suppose.”

He tries a variety of names: Penny, Abatha, Cackles, Harriet, and Henny. None of which the chicken has any response to. He lapses into silence as he conjures, what he hopes is, a henhouse. Satisfied, he dusts his hands on his trousers and stares at the fat hen.

“Lily had a chicken, our fifth year.”

The chicken pauses and clucks softly. She turns to face him and cocks her head to the side, making her comb wiggle.

“You look nearly exactly like it, to be honest. Its name was Milly, I think. It was Lily’s familiar for transfiguration class. Sirius charmed it pink for some reason or another and James tied bows in its feathers sometime during sixth year. The poor bird hated school, but followed Lily faithfully. It was a good familiar.”

The chicken clucks, just once, gently, as if trying to understand the pain present in Remus’s voice. Remus lets out a humorless chuckle.

“That chicken was just proof of how very innocent we were. It sort of sums up every thing from my adolescence… I was wild and dirty, not worth anything to anyone but me… But that’s not the point,” he says as he shakes his head, “Milly was a good familiar.”

Across the garden, Teddy gives off a wild yell and flails his arms as he throws a handful of dirty, melting snow into the air.

“I had a familiar… well, I suppose it was as close as I would get to one,” Remus says, absently, while sitting down on the leaf-strewn yard.

“My best friend—among other things, of course—could turn into a dog. No offense, but no chicken had anything on how faithful he was.”

Remus’s eyes stare at the back garden, unfocused. The chicken is silent.

“He suffered for twelve years without being able to tell me the truth. He swam through a frigid ocean. He lived in the forest and in caves… he ate rats. But he still came back to me. For a long time…” Remus’s voice crackles with sadness, “I hoped the he would come back to me… again…”

The hen scratches her way closer, until she is about a foot away from Remus. Absently, he turns his eyes from the far fence to meet her beady gaze.

“You are not the first chicken for whom I have crossed paths,” he says with finality, “I think I’ll call you Camilla, as sort of a second Milly, but with a new identity.”

The hen puffs and wanders into her enclosure without being forced. Remus takes this as acceptance as he closes the wire fence behind her. He sits and watches her peck at the grass until his wife calls him inside.

Dinner is not a quiet affair. Andromeda appears around six, laden with a coffee cake and gossip from the Ministry of Magic. She laughs at Remus’s attempt at a henhouse and tisks at her daughter when Tonks suggests that the bird isn’t safe to have around a two-year-old.

“Dora,” Andromeda laughs, her eyes crinkling in mirth, “my grandson survived a war, the near loss of both of his parents, a severe case of Firecrossed Measles, and the digestion of several bottles of potion ingredients… he basically made Essence of Living Death in his little tummy—the boy is the son of a Marauder. I think the chicken is fine.”

Remus smiles and exits the dining room to look into the darkening garden for his new pet. The women in the kitchen obviously do not know that he is still close because the subject changes to a degree.

“But who would leave a bird bound on our step?” Tonks asks, concern filling her voice.

Andromeda is quiet for a moment.

“Maybe someone who knew what Remus needed,” she finally replies.

Tonks sighs before confiding in her mother.

“He’s not happy.”

There is a moment when Remus’s heart aches for her and the dejected honesty that lurks in her voice. But she’s correct, as always, he’s just unhappy to hear that his discontentment is affecting her as well.

“Really?” Andromeda asks sarcastically. “I could have sworn your father and I advised you on this very topic. Did I not tell you—“

Remus is surprise how very Black his mother-in-law sounds at that moment.

“—that he loved Sirius. You will never—“

“Oh, honestly, Mother,” Tonks says exasperated.

Remus hears the knock of pans and pots as his wife charms the washing up liquid into the sink.

“Perhaps someone thought Remus needed something to care for—“ Andromeda continues.

“—yes, because his son and wife aren’t enough,” Tonks replies, hurt.

“Oh, Dora,” Andromeda soothes and Remus expects his mother-in-law to say something further, but there is only lingering silence.

“Did you always love Dad?” Tonks whispers, loneliness pulling at her voice.

Remus rests his forehead on the cool glass of the window feeling the weight of his bride’s unhappiness hanging on his chest.

“Do you love him?” Andromeda replies as if she is considering her words.

Tonks laughs abruptly like gunfire. “That’s not really enough, now is it?”

“Sweetie,” Andromeda whispers and Remus can hear her move across the tile to her daughter’s side, “but I have always stood by my piece. He never quit loving Sirius.”

Dora huffs and mutters something to which her mother replies, “Oh! The chicken won’t hurt anyone!”

Tonks grumbles again but Remus doesn’t hear the words. He slips down the darkened hallway to watch his son sleep while they continue to talk.

Morning comes, as mornings often do and Remus wakes to find Tonks waiting for him to awaken. He sighs when he sees her puffy eyes and the balls of used tissues on her bedside table. The tearstains are still evident on her cheeks even though her eyes are dry.

“Dora?” he croaks in a sleepy hoarseness.

A part of him is regretting the forthcoming conversation, while a very guilty part of him is breathing much easier.

“I don’t want the chicken,” she says, stern, but hurt.

“Dora,” Remus grumbles, “I’ve just woken up, can’t this wait until after tea?”

He stretches and makes to get out of bed, but she continues to talk.

“No,” she whispers, assertively. “You need the chicken. But I don’t want it.”

He rubs at his eyes and sighs.

“It’s just a chicken, Dora. It looks like the one we harassed in school… it’s just a happy sort of memory,” he mutters, resigned.

“That’s just it!” she replies while throwing up her hands, “You only look to your childhood for happy memories! We should have happy memories! We should be happy!”

“I am happy,” Remus replies as he tugs at the duvet, as if the action will make the statement true.

“Yes,” she retorts, snippily, “when you’re with Teddy.”

Remus’s eyes snap up to meet her gaze, but she quickly looks away.

“And I want a divorce,” she whispers with conviction.

“W-wh-what?” he asks, unsure that he’s heard correctly.

Part of his brain registers the words and connects them to the conversation that he overheard the night before, but somehow, the words are still a shock. It’s like the snow days at Hogwarts, he and the Marauders would romp about in that wintry wonderland expecting the unenviable snow fight… and, yet, he was always surprised when the ice was shoved down his back between the layers of his coat and his scarred back.

“You can stay here for a while, until you can find another place,” she continues. Her words have a rehearsed polish, “but I’m done, Remus. I’m tired of this—I’m too young not to be loved.”

Remus gapes at her, feeling like his world is shaken and spinning suddenly.

“—But…it’s just a chicken!... And what about Teddy?…”

“I won’t take him from you, you can still see him,” Tonks replies, looking anywhere but him.

Remus makes a desperate grab for her hand; newspaper images of Dark Creatures being imprisoned for attempting to see their children flash through his mind.

“No, Dora… the Ministry will never grant me custody. I’ll lose him. don’t do this,” he pleads, the more he thinks about it, the more panicked he becomes. He cannot lose his child.

She laughs humorlessly. “You’d fight for him, eh? But not me?”

He doesn’t deny it. She nods and laughs again, rising from the bed. He wants to make another grab for her hand—he really does—but he can’t. He’s lied to her long enough. He doesn’t love her; he never has. He won’t make her suffer anymore.

“I’ve got to…” but her words drop away and she heads into the bathroom to shower.

Remus lies on his back staring at the ceiling. He should be worried or angry or something, but he feels nothing. For the first time in years, he feels like when this falls apart, his life will still be intact… as if Sirius is waiting for him back at their old flat.

He shakes himself and goes to rouse Teddy. Remus dresses his son in a winter appropriate coat and his bright blue wellies. Father and son traipse out into the back garden, checking for eggs and signs of fox in the new snow. In the morning light, the hen looks even more like Lily’s chicken than he first thought. Camilla shakes the morning frost out of her feathers as Remus feeds her the crust from his toast. Teddy roars with laughter and claps his chubby hands when the hen attacks her breakfast.

Remus smiles, slow and shy at his son. This is the life that almost wasn’t, he thinks. Too long ago he tried to convince Dora to choose another, to love one more willing and able. At the time, Remus thought himself incapable of loving another, but Teddy disproved that. There were those moments full of self-doubt and guilt when he fled from Dora and their unborn child. Then there was that last battle that left Remus comatose for months; those months he remembers only voices speaking to him and the comforting presence of Sirius—as if he was there in those lonely, confusing moments.

Teddy leans over and picks up a morning-wet leaf. It sparkles with dew and shines out the bright colors of the season. Teddy offers the gift to his father.

“Oh, very nice,” Remus admires, turning the leaf over and over by the stem.

Teddy beams and proceeds to find two more before losing interest at the sight of a squirrel. Remus follows the toddling waddle of blue rubber boots and wonders what would have happened to the impish child had the battle at Hogwarts ended a different way. Remus’s mind wanders then, traveling down the paths of “what if’s” and “could have been” until Camilla squawks and Teddy laughs. Remus looks toward the house to see what has captured his son’s attention.

“Harr-ee!” Teddy squeals, scrambling up the wet grass toward his godfather.

“Morning,” Harry replies, quietly. He leans down to meet Teddy eye-to-eye and they converse softly godfather-to-godchild, as Sirius should have done to Harry at that age.

Remus sighs. At the sound, Harry lifts his head and smiles at Remus.

These get-togethers had come from more nonsense at the Ministry level. It’s foolishness, according to Remus, but the Ministry was insistent that Harry finish his seventh year and receive actual N.E.W.T. scores before he can return to the payroll. Remus had laughed when Harry had told him the whole sordid tale with much indignation.

“It’s not like I didn’t just hunt down sixteen Death Eaters or anything! Plus, they just assume I can run back to Hogwarts! Imagine that… I would be worse than when Colin Creevey,” Harry grimaced when he’d said the name, “chased me about with that bloody camera. I wouldn’t ever have a moment’s rest.”

Remus had indulged him and allowed him to whine and grumble, but in the end, Remus had offered to teach Harry himself. Harry had glowed with excitement. In time, the arrangement was extended to the other displaced students and Ron, Neville, Hermione, Luna, and Ginny soon joined them.

As much as Remus hesitated about the idea in the beginning, he finds that he lives for these hours of kinship and learning. These students, without Hogwarts to define them, are fluttering about the landscape of post-war. They are a strange mix of grief and battle-readiness; they have changed from those many years ago when he was a formal Hogwarts’ professor.

Harry is quieter that before, so much so that it takes Ginny’s excessive flirting and Neville’s soft encouragements to even get a word out of him. Ron flusters easier, and is often ready to fight at the drop of a hat. Hermione keeps her two boys close and protected; Remus does not doubt that it was her intuitiveness that kept the three of them alive during their endless “camping adventures.”

Neville is braver than before, but still shy and Remus sees a lot of himself in the boy. Luna and Ginny might be the strongest of the bunch. They survived the horrors of a changed Hogwarts and although it is not spoken of, Remus is sure that the tortures of those months have left their scars of the two girls.

“Good morning,” Remus says, while he looks past Harry and Teddy into the house. His other students are not with Harry.

“They’ll be along,” Harry replies, as if reading Remus’s mind, “Luna’s knee was bothering her, Ron and ‘Monie were having a row, but they’ll be here shortly.”

Remus nods. He knows all about weather affecting old injuries and spats with lovers.

“Care for some tea?” he asks his friend as they wander back into the kitchen.

Harry doesn’t reply and Remus doesn’t turn to see if he nods, but moves to make tea for the coming group. Teddy is keeping a running thread of two-year-old conversation as Harry pulls off the child’s wellies.

“…Chic-ken!”

“Really?” Harry asks, yanking off the second boot.

Remus collects teacups and debates between Earl Grey and English Breakfast.

“I’ve inherited a hen,” Remus explains, glaring between the boxes deciding which of the two would be best.

“A mite machine,” Tonks huffs as she hurries into the kitchen. “Wotcher, Harry.”

Harry grins in return. Remus and Tonks acknowledge one another.

“Is everything okay?” Harry questions with evident concern. He collects Teddy into his lap.

“We’re not having a row, Prongslet,” Remus says, setting the tea things on the table.

The kitchen goes silent. Tonks looks at Remus curiously. Harry stares, openmouthed.

“What did you call me?” Harry whispers, shocked.

Remus lifts his gaze and blinks rapidly.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Harry,” he stutters, horrified. “I haven’t called you that in years.”

“Prongslet?” Harry whispers, turning the word over in his mouth as if it were a butterscotch.

“Well… James was… and….” Remus’s words slip out without any meaning or clarification. “Sirius called you that,” he says finally.

Tonks shifts her weight to her other foot and pulls at the Auror pin at her breast. She opens her mouth, as if she’s going to add something, then shakes her head and grimaces.

“I’m going to be late,” she mummers to no one in particular. “Bye Teddy-love.”

She places a kiss on her son’s head and squeezes Harry’s shoulder.

“See you tonight,” Tonks says to her husband, staring over his shoulder while she speaks. “Take something out for dinner, would you?”

“Have a good day, Dora,” he replies, attempting a smile.

Tonks grimaces again and disappears without another word. Harry bounces Teddy on his knee.

“What did I call you?” he asks suddenly, as if Tonks had never interrupted them.

“Pardon?” Remus asks, startled.

“When I was little, what did I call you?”

Remus smiles tightly, “Moony, of course.”

Harry smiles bashfully and ducks his head.

“We would have had very different lives if things had turned out differently… wouldn’t we?” Harry asks, almost like a small child whom needs reassurance.

“You have no idea,” Remus whispers, reaching for Harry’s hand and then suddenly retracting it again.

Harry stares at Remus’s movement before looking back into his professor’s face.

“Can I tell you something… Moony?” Harry asks, trying out the name in much the same fashion as he used “Prongslet”.

Remus nods carefully, watching Teddy fidget in Harry’s lap.

“A Nimbus 2000 appeared in my arm chair this morning. Not just any broom either,” he sucks in a deep breath, “it’s mine. The one that was destroyed by the Willow.”

Remus looks at Harry in confusion.

“How can you be sure?” he asks, eyeing Harry’s scar in concern.

“It has all the scars on it… where it broke apart all those years ago.” Harry rises from his chair and opens the window to the brisk morning air. “And that’s not all.”

Remus follows Harry’s eyes out the window. To his surprise a puffy, white owl descents into the kitchen with a petulant “hoo?”

“I don’t understand,” Remus begins slowly.

“It’d Hedwig. She just showed up last night.”

“Harry,” Remus begins, preparing to inspect the owl, “that’s impossible.”

“No,” Harry says, moving toward the living room and picking up the Daily Prophet from among his things, “it’s not. Although I sort of hoped that my Firebolt would be returned, too.”

Teddy laughs as his godfather intentionally jostles him while flipping through the pages.

He begins to read from the above the fold of the front page. “Lost and destroyed articles appear to public—Ministry baffled.”

Harry skips down, mouthing the words that he isn’t reading aloud, clearly looking for a certain portion of the article, “—the Ministry is ordering a full investigate into these mysterious appearances. ‘It’s just the darnest thing; as far as we can tell, the Veil is bringing back special possessions… about three a person. It’s sort of a Christmas miracle of sorts. We’re taking a survey, of course, we’d like all the community to let us know what shows up at your house, because, to be honest, we haven’t a damn clue.’ The Ministry is also quick to point out that this magic does not appear to be related, in any way, shape, or form, to You-Know-Who.”

Harry looks away from the page and lifts an inquisitive eyebrow at Remus. He looks mischievous and so much like James at twenty that Remus almost crosses the tiled floor at a dead run. Harry continues to read aloud and the words drip off of Remus’s ears—three items a person, appearing from behind the Death Veil in the Department of Mysteries, the idea that each item represented something that the recipient has lost: Remus takes it all in.

Part of his innermost being hugs around a flickering hope: something that was lost. He sinks into a kitchen chair as the meaning falls upon him.

“The hen,” he breathes, “She’s really Lily’s then.”

Harry blinks, confused.

“My Mum had a chicken?” he asks, but Remus does not reply.

Teddy, obvious to the conversation, takes Harry’s hands and attempts to force him to play peek-a-boo. Harry smiles kindly and plays along for a moment, waiting for Remus to answer him. Remus grabs the teapot and pours two steaming cups of watery tea to keep his hands from shaking.

“Magic doesn’t just happen like this,” he whispers.

Harry stares at him, while successfully avoiding Teddy’s chubby hands.

“They’re expecting three items per person,” Remus continues, clearly lost in thought.

“Three is a traditional magically number, right?” Harry asks.

Remus suddenly smiles, “Yes. It’s the number of brotherhood or death…”

Harry and Remus stare at one another. A numb realization spreads in Remus’s being.

“What else have you gotten back?” Remus asks distractedly. In his mind, he kicks at the rising hope that seems to be inching into his foremost thought.

“Nothing…” Harry replies, scratching at an itch on his neck. Teddy reaches up to help and Harry grins at him. “I was sort of… well… hoping…” he says, suddenly hesitant.

“I mean, these will be all dead items…” Harry clarifies.

“Coming from the Department of Mysteries, specifically from the Veil of Death,” Remus finishes.

There is hope in Harry’s voice when he speaks.

“If they’re coming from the Veil, then Sirius could—“

Remus’s heart is beating out of control. Sirius. Back. The replacement of what has been lost. But reality strikes out at him and he speaks from his years of scholarship.

“No, Harry,” he says gently. “Magic can bring back the dead, but they are not as they once were. Sirius is dead, we have to accept that.”

Remus feels his heart snap in half as his mouth forms the words.

“But if dead items—owls and hens—are returning then—“

“It’s perfectly normal, Harry, to want those we love to return to us,” Remus says, trying to keep his tone even.

Harry’s face is open and broken, like a crumpled piece of parchment abandoned on the floor of a third-year’s dormitory. Remus’s heart feels much the same way.

“Maybe he’s not fully dead. I saw him with the Resurrection Stone,” Harry says, but his voice is even softer than a whisper. Remus wants to cling to the evidence that Harry is citing, but he forces himself to be rational.

“But you saw me, as well,” Remus reassures.

“That’s because you wanted to die,” Harry clarifies, challenging Remus with his eyes.

Remus chokes. He has to take a series of deep breaths.

“I was in a coma, it’s much like death—“

“Maybe where Sirius is somewhere like that—“ Harry calls, excitedly.

“—I wish it were so.”

Harry glares at Remus for a moment before turning his gaze to the carpet. Remus watches Harry begin to fold into himself and he finds himself speaking as if he can pull Harry away from the breaking point.

“Do you know how very different our lives would have been, Harry Potter?” Remus asks brokenly. “If, years ago, things had been as they should have been? Your parents would have had their annual Christmas party soon and your Mum would have made mincemeat pies. James would have insisted that we go wassailing, even if he was nearly forty. Sirius and I would have spent far too many hours decorating the tree and then Peter would have enchanted the baubbles to sing dirty dirges. You would have spent your entire life loved and happy… we all would have.”

They lapse into silence and Teddy squirms his way off of his godfather’s lap to run into the other room. Harry fists his hands tightly.

“Would you have married Tonks?” he whispers watching Teddy’s flight.

Remus laughs softly. “Dora is a beautiful woman… but she is no Sirius.”

Remus sucks on his teeth as soon as he realizes his error. Harry’s eyes open wider for a split second, but he wills them to focus on the table instead. Remus clinches his teacup and begins to prepare words to backpedal out of his slip of tongue. As he does, however, unbidden memories well up in his mind.

Sirius, at sixteen, pushing Lily on a swing at a Muggle park.

Peter and Sirius, both twenty or so and dreadfully drunk, with arms around one another laughing.

  
An eleven-year-old Sirius threatening to stick his tongue into James’s ear and then doing so.

  
Sirius in various degree of nudity at various ages.

Scorching kisses. Needy touches. Breathless laughter. Soul-stealing eyes.

Harry interrupts his thoughts.

“Did you love him?” Harry asks, with a demanding set of his jaw—just like Lily.

“More than air,” Remus replies.

Harry just nods. Remus sighs. These years of lies are over, finally. The truth is freeing. He relaxes and sees Harry do the same. This secret’s destruction has done them both good.

At that moment the front door opens audibly and Teddy shrieks with joy. But the war has left its habits and Remus and Harry’s chairs hit the floor simultaneously. Their wands are out and Remus is flinging himself into the living room, prepared to defend both his son and his best friend’s son.

The hexes are out of his mouth long before he identifies the intruders.

His students—as they turn out to be—are immediately on the defensive, wands drawn and calling out distinguishing information about themselves. The hexes fall away, deflected, and Remus slows, feeling his breath short and his heart quick.

They apologize to one another, the students looking sheepish and Remus feeling foolish. Harry rubs at the back of his neck and then quickly goes to right the kitchen. Slowly, they begin to relax and fall into preparing for class. Ron and Hermione are still bickering quietly while they enlarge the chalkboard and locate their textbooks. Neville excuses himself to use the loo, while Luna sinks into the closest couch, abandoning her walking stick with a sigh.

Remus looks at her sadly. Her radish earrings are the only part of her childhood that she still retains. While Luna remains happy-go-lucky and optimistic in the worst of moments, her months of capture at Malfoy’s Manor took an obvious toll. Even so, her large, unblinking eyes turn to him with something akin to humor.

“Professor Lupin,” she coos dreamily, “are you Greek?”

Remus blinks. “No, I’m from Kent.”

“Oh. Perhaps it was the Thriving Gurrets then.”

“Pardon?” Remus asks, looking to the newly returned Harry for help.

“Thriving Gurrets. They’re always leaving gifts in unexpected places. That or you’re secretly a closet Greek?” she asks, turning her head not unlike the hen in the back garden.

Remus finds himself flushing at the suggestion of being closet anything, but replies steadily, “No, I’m afraid not. But you must forgive me, Luna, I’m quite confused—“

“Oh,” Luna replies, unruffled, “the Greeks throw dishes in celebration. I thought, perhaps, you had received an extra nice surprise that you’d lost.”

“So he was breaking cups?” Ginny asks, raising an eyebrow, while she drops on the couch next to her friend.

Luna shrugs.

“You’re loony, Luna,” Ginny laughs and pats Luna on the shoulder.

Luna just shrugs again and holds up a wand to show Remus. He assumes it is the one that was destroyed during her time of captivity.

“I got something of my mum’s too,” Luna continues, clearly on a tangent.

“You say you found something on my step?” Remus inquires, directing his question at Luna, but hoping Ginny will give him a straight answer.

“Oh! Just give him the bloody cup!” Ron snarls, clearly turning his mood on the entire party. Hermoine glares at Ron, but Luna seems unperturbed. She retrieves a petite china cup from her robe pocket and offers it Remus. As soon as Remus closes his hand around it, his knees weaken.

“It’s not possible,” he breathes, nearly missing the chair he is falling into.

Neville comes down the hall and joins the others who are watching their professor with concern.

“Lupin?” Neville asks, reaching for his teacher’s shoulder.

“They were all destroyed… I know it…” Remus whispers, turning the cup over and over in his hand.

Ginny leans over and lifts Teddy into her arms and looks at Harry with concern. Remus is staring at the detailed red flowers and gold edged cup as if it holds an answer to his existence.

“Remus,” Harry tries, “what is it?”

“This was your parents’,” Remus replies, disbelievingly. “It was their wedding china. I went with James to pick it out… we used it for every Christmas until 1981. Lily insisted that it be washed by hand—no magic. She was so proud of it… said it was the most beautiful thing ever… but it’s not possible. It was destroyed with the house. I know… I know… I went… I saw…”

The room is silent. Even Ron and Hermoine’s argument is forgotten.

“Where did you get this from?” Remus asks, his eyes big and childlike as he looks to Luna.

“It was on your front step,” she replies. “Thriving Garrets are like that.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, but Neville stops her from saying something.

“Lupin, are you sure they were all destroyed?” he asks, locking eyes with Harry.

“It’s the Veil,” Harry whispers. “Hedwig is back…Sirius must be--”

“Don’t get on that again, Harry!” Ron says, quickly.

“Just coincidences, Harry,” Hermione assures softly. “He’s gone; Sirius is dead.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Harry explodes, “Hedwig was dead! Now she’s not!”

“This is the cup Sirius broke,” Remus whispers, not hearing any of the conversation around him. “He dropped it once and Lily nearly killed him. Peter repaired it while Sirius tried to keep Lily from seeing, but there was always a chip in it afterward. A chip… right here,” Remus’s finger lingers on the base of the cup.

“There is the string theory thing,” Neville says to Harry and Harry looks at him hungrily, anger abating. “Like black holes.”

“Could that return brooms and owls?” Harry asks, desperately.

Hermione and Ron look upset that Neville is humoring their friend.

“Well, I got back a jersey that I lost when I was six,” Ginny answers. “And George got Fred’s favorite jumper. I think the black hole—or whatever—is giving us back items that we needed the most.”

“Three items?” Hermione asks, incredulously.

Ginny just shrugged. “Three is a magical number. It’s stable, binding.”

“Still,” Ron begins, suddenly sated, “dead people seem a bit extreme.”

“People are never really dead until no one remembers them,” Luna asserts dreamily.

At these words Remus leaps from his chair, like someone has spurn him into action. He is still clutching the cup gingerly, he rushes to the front door and throws it open.

“Padfoot?” he yells into the empty front yard.

He runs barefoot into the melting snow, aware that five young witches and wizards are watching him like he has lost his mind.

“Professor Lupin?” Hermione asks, trying to call to him over his shouts for his dead friend.

Remus’s voice trembles and fails him. Hermione calls to him again.

“He’s gone, Professor,” she comforts him, walking to his side and touching his elbow. “He’s been gone for three years. He’s gone.”

There is something breaking in those words; they are nearly the exact empty sentiments that he spoke to Harry in the moments after Sirius fell beyond the veil. In much the same way that Harry exploded in rage, Remus begins to yell.

“The hen! It’s been dead for twenty years and now it’s back! This cup has been destroyed for eighteen years and here it is!” Remus waves the cup in front of her face wildly. “Three years is nothing! He has always come back to me! After that summer with his family! After twelve years! After the Tournament! He’ll come back! He’s always come back to me!”

Hermione’s eyes glaze over and Remus is vaguely aware that most of his current company is focused somewhere behind him.

“I’ll always come back to you, Moony.”

Remus whips around at the sound of the familiar, gravely voice and comes face-to-face with the loveliest thing he’d ever found on his front step.


End file.
